Hold it, I hope. [ He sits back down at the table and drums his fingers on the shoebox. ]
First, the elephant in the room. Are these correct? Size 7 and a half, glossy black, Manolo Blahnik? Let me know if not, I can arrange another date for us.
[She almost looks perturbed at his actual ability to be right about something (a vote of confidence if there ever was one) but shakes it off well enough.]
Yes, that's correct. A little crude you kept them on the table where we'll be eating, but at least you brought them.
[She laughs quickly, stifling it quickly. Jury's out on whether or not it was a genuine or mocking laugh.]
Was I ambiguous with the melon baller comment? You wouldn't have gotten another.
You've had fun, I imagine, from what I've heard then. Well, I was in California for a long while, but in passing decades this seemed to be a place to find something to satiate my appetite.
[ Tinkering with the silverware, frowning at the lack of real silver he could feel in it. His eyes also are careful to look around for curious eavesdroppers before continuing. ]
Traveled around most of Europe until I came to the states in the 19th century.
[She scoffs a little his petulant-looking frown. It was strange; his body looked human enough, but she would get that whiff of smoke again and any instinct she had to rip his jugular clean open was gone. Well, the instinct portion at least, his personality notwithstanding.
She says if softly enough not to be overheard, noting his own cursory glances.]
I'm not sure 'fun' is the word I would use. Well, the war years were good. There were a lot of humans coming over from Europe and troops being transferred in and out of the city.
[Cadence doesn't really do 'wistful' but she'd be lying if she said those weren't fun times. She remembers being told the South had food shortages during those years, and had even sold cotton to the enemy for food. New York had never had to worry.
That being said, it had been murder hunting in a hoop skirt.]
Huh, I wonder why you made the journey to California. [Gold-grubbing lizard.] I debated going to the West Coast, but even after the Suez was done, the trip would probably have been too much.
[She takes a sip from her own glass, mulling over her answer.]
...around the Eastern Mediterranean. Not much to say about it, it's all beaches and dirty old ruins. Aside from the warm weather, it's pretty overrated.
Sounds charming. I've only been to the beach a handful of times, myself.
[ He considers her for a moment, appreciating the way her lips grabbed the side of the glass and left a small stain from her lipstick. His gold flecked eyes try to meet hers. ]
So did you hop on a boat with the Puritans to make your way here? Make a home anywhere in between the beaches and New York for you?
[She corrects him curtly, lips still curled around the edge of the glass.]
Right before the turnover, incidentally. I just switched over. I never went up to New England intentionally; those fucking repressed bumpkins were paranoid enough to hang their own based purely on rumor of the supernatural. It was never worth the headache.
[She catches the flick of gold-flecked eyes; it's interesting, that even with his glamour, that slight bit of unnatural slips through. Cadence's own, a pair that are a blue that's not quite green, meet his accordingly. Centuries ago, before she'd made the journey away from the Greek isles, a sailor had told her that her eyes had reminded him of the sea (a cliche that hadn't impressed, to say the least.) What he had followed it up with, however, had actually surprised her: he hadn't been reminded of the surrounding clear Mediterranean waters, but rather the dark depths of the Baltics. He'd said that it reminded him of the Northern seas right before a major storm, how it looked like the very waters would rise up to swallow the crews whole.
Cadence had his liver later that evening, but the conversation hadn't made it sit well. It was the only time she'd ever truly been unnerved.]
And you? How many years did you sit out there watching others pan your gold before you decided to come back to the East and finding a nicer hiding spot for it?
Fair enough. I can't imagine those witch hunt fires suited you.
[ Clay breaks his gaze to flag down the waitress' gaze to point to his drink and hold a finger up for another. He turns his full attention back to the lady with the fierce, tempestuous eyes. ]
Well there was some investing to be done in the railroads first to make the pile bigger. The depression made for an excellent time to find cheap travels to make my way across the country to the bigger city, much as I enjoyed the sunbathing.
[ He smiles sardonically, because yes it was sarcasm. Make the lizard pun, he's giving it to you. ]
More that I'm not a fan of the "necklaces." Most were hanged, not burned.
[Well, someone was still a backwater hick in Europe at the height of the witch hysteria. Europe loved a good witch burning, but the habit didn't really cross over into the new world.
She stops the line of questioning for a moment when a waiter comes over to refill drinks and provide some hors d'oeuvres.]
I hope you're actually able to eat this. Some of this is not exactly...suited for my palate.
[And by 'palate,' she means, 'this is not red meat that has been recently dispatched nor alcohol and therefore isn't either digestible or worth the discomfort.']
Huh. The more you know. But here I would have figured fish was your... "natural" diet.
[ He dips one of the exquisitely deep-fried tentacles into red sauce and all but throws it into his mouth with finesse and a smile as he chews it. ]
I can eat like a carnivore without a problem when hungry, and the rest just processes through in this state, but I need a certain amounts of... [ He grimaces and chews another piece of calamari. ] -- "minerals" to keep my strength up. Not every day or anything, but think of it like humans and Vitamin D.
And I would have figured you would done more homework, given how hard you were gunning for this dinner.
[She pops a little bit of calamari into her mouth into one succinct movement; there's no savoring that comes with it, it's more to prove a point if anything else.]
Sirens need red meat. I can eat other things, and protein is generally less harsh on my system than other foods, but it's like eating junk food: not too much substance, and too much will make you sick.
[She takes another sip of her not-so neglected wine glass.]
[ He smirks at the chirp and eats another piece and rubs his fingers to get the residue off before reaching for his glass as well. ]
I like gold; but gems make for a nice variety and it never hurts to keep adding anything precious. In fact, the opposite, or so I've heard from long-dead relatives.
[ He takes a sip of his glass and marvels for a moment at the fact that he got her to open up even just a bit. It was a swooping feeling of victory that a competitive creature like him lived for, but it felt a bit different, for some reason. ]
Because males tend to be the more stupid of their species.
[Another sip of wine, accompanied by a very pointed look.]
But from a biological standpoint, a siren's call works just as fine on either sex. I just got the taste for it after all those years of all-male crews.
[She's not sure why she's bothering to give him the small biology lesson on sirens, but it's making his face do this stupid, what she has to assume to is a "pleased" look, so it's...amusing, at very least.]
I take it your long-dead relatives were not as keen on their own advice. Define "precious."
[ Clay opens his mouth to reply to the first statement, but closes it, waves his glass on its way back to the table- because he can't argue that- and lets her continue. ]
If it originally came from the ground and sparkles with some effort, it will make a nice addition to the pile. [ With an eye roll. Even he recognizes it sounds silly, especially to someone like Cadence, but- There was a reason he liked her. Yes, that. Masochism. ]
Families are hard when everyone is jealous of each other's collections and steal from each other - and pretty much everyone, for that matter. It's not easy to amass shit like that without getting called a thief. We don't exactly die easily, but a well-placed bullet or a beheading will do the trick. Let alone the damage we can do to each other.
small>[ He eats another piece of calamari and smirks. ] You have a family?
"The pile." You sound like a magpie. Or something like...a squirrel, hoarding up for winter.
[She takes mental notes of his quick examples of his extended families' ends, should she ever need a new handbag.]
So you're basically built to run yourselves into extinction, charming. Explains why I've yet to run into another dragon in a financial capital. You're the first, though it does beg the question how you've managed to survive natural selection this long...
[Whatever banter he was getting from her before shutters at the mention of family; she takes another sip of wine, draining the glass.]
No, no family. Sirens are made, not born. Another biology lesson for you.
[She rattles off the species names with the same sort of interest one gives a tax form. Nice try, but no luck.]
All kind of fae, goblins since they're so keen on the banking sector, a troll or two, a few centaurs...New York is a big city.
[She slides up from her seat, smoothing out her dress.]
I need to step away to the restroom for a second. Order me... [She scans the menu for just a second before settling on her choice] the tenderloin if the waiter comes while I'm gone - rare.
[ For a moment he looks at the shoes as though she might take those and flee, but- She doesn't. He relaxes. ]
---
[ The relaxation doesn't last all that long. ]
No, no I don't think she's coming back. Thank you.
[ He hisses, after the waitress tries for the third time to tell him that his date has gone ghost to gently get a more profitable table going. Dropping two bills on the table, he goes to leave after an extra glass of scotch to wash down the three bites of steak he managed.
Clyteus caught a cab and set off back to his apartment cradling the same expensive fucking useless shoes he came with. ]
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no subject
First, the elephant in the room. Are these correct? Size 7 and a half, glossy black, Manolo Blahnik? Let me know if not, I can arrange another date for us.
no subject
Yes, that's correct. A little crude you kept them on the table where we'll be eating, but at least you brought them.
[She laughs quickly, stifling it quickly. Jury's out on whether or not it was a genuine or mocking laugh.]
Was I ambiguous with the melon baller comment? You wouldn't have gotten another.
no subject
[ Putting the box back in the paper bag on the empty chair by him, rolling his eyes at her bite but not looking perturbed otherwise. ]
So. Cadence. [ Smiling at the name. He liked how it sounded on his lips. ]
Have you been in New York a... long time?
no subject
Long enough. [She passes a glance at a passing waitress.] A couple centuries.
[She takes a sip from her water glass, because apparently that's the end of that conversation.]
And you? What is a dragon even doing in New York?
no subject
You've had fun, I imagine, from what I've heard then. Well, I was in California for a long while, but in passing decades this seemed to be a place to find something to satiate my appetite.
[ Tinkering with the silverware, frowning at the lack of real silver he could feel in it. His eyes also are careful to look around for curious eavesdroppers before continuing. ]
Traveled around most of Europe until I came to the states in the 19th century.
no subject
She says if softly enough not to be overheard, noting his own cursory glances.]
I'm not sure 'fun' is the word I would use. Well, the war years were good. There were a lot of humans coming over from Europe and troops being transferred in and out of the city.
[Cadence doesn't really do 'wistful' but she'd be lying if she said those weren't fun times. She remembers being told the South had food shortages during those years, and had even sold cotton to the enemy for food. New York had never had to worry.
That being said, it had been murder hunting in a hoop skirt.]
Huh, I wonder why you made the journey to California. [Gold-grubbing lizard.] I debated going to the West Coast, but even after the Suez was done, the trip would probably have been too much.
no subject
[ Smiling and sipping his glass, finishing the drink and looking around for someone to bring him another. ]
How about yourself? Where did you spend the tadpole years?
no subject
...around the Eastern Mediterranean. Not much to say about it, it's all beaches and dirty old ruins. Aside from the warm weather, it's pretty overrated.
no subject
[ He considers her for a moment, appreciating the way her lips grabbed the side of the glass and left a small stain from her lipstick. His gold flecked eyes try to meet hers. ]
So did you hop on a boat with the Puritans to make your way here? Make a home anywhere in between the beaches and New York for you?
no subject
[She corrects him curtly, lips still curled around the edge of the glass.]
Right before the turnover, incidentally. I just switched over. I never went up to New England intentionally; those fucking repressed bumpkins were paranoid enough to hang their own based purely on rumor of the supernatural. It was never worth the headache.
[She catches the flick of gold-flecked eyes; it's interesting, that even with his glamour, that slight bit of unnatural slips through. Cadence's own, a pair that are a blue that's not quite green, meet his accordingly. Centuries ago, before she'd made the journey away from the Greek isles, a sailor had told her that her eyes had reminded him of the sea (a cliche that hadn't impressed, to say the least.) What he had followed it up with, however, had actually surprised her: he hadn't been reminded of the surrounding clear Mediterranean waters, but rather the dark depths of the Baltics. He'd said that it reminded him of the Northern seas right before a major storm, how it looked like the very waters would rise up to swallow the crews whole.
Cadence had his liver later that evening, but the conversation hadn't made it sit well. It was the only time she'd ever truly been unnerved.]
And you? How many years did you sit out there watching others pan your gold before you decided to come back to the East and finding a nicer hiding spot for it?
no subject
[ Clay breaks his gaze to flag down the waitress' gaze to point to his drink and hold a finger up for another. He turns his full attention back to the lady with the fierce, tempestuous eyes. ]
Well there was some investing to be done in the railroads first to make the pile bigger. The depression made for an excellent time to find cheap travels to make my way across the country to the bigger city, much as I enjoyed the sunbathing.
[ He smiles sardonically, because yes it was sarcasm. Make the lizard pun, he's giving it to you. ]
no subject
[Well, someone was still a backwater hick in Europe at the height of the witch hysteria. Europe loved a good witch burning, but the habit didn't really cross over into the new world.
She stops the line of questioning for a moment when a waiter comes over to refill drinks and provide some hors d'oeuvres.]
I hope you're actually able to eat this. Some of this is not exactly...suited for my palate.
[And by 'palate,' she means, 'this is not red meat that has been recently dispatched nor alcohol and therefore isn't either digestible or worth the discomfort.']
no subject
[ He dips one of the exquisitely deep-fried tentacles into red sauce and all but throws it into his mouth with finesse and a smile as he chews it. ]
I can eat like a carnivore without a problem when hungry, and the rest just processes through in this state, but I need a certain amounts of... [ He grimaces and chews another piece of calamari. ] -- "minerals" to keep my strength up. Not every day or anything, but think of it like humans and Vitamin D.
i'm not dead!
[She pops a little bit of calamari into her mouth into one succinct movement; there's no savoring that comes with it, it's more to prove a point if anything else.]
Sirens need red meat. I can eat other things, and protein is generally less harsh on my system than other foods, but it's like eating junk food: not too much substance, and too much will make you sick.
[She takes another sip of her not-so neglected wine glass.]
What "minerals" do you prefer, exactly?
/is dead
I like gold; but gems make for a nice variety and it never hurts to keep adding anything precious. In fact, the opposite, or so I've heard from long-dead relatives.
[ He takes a sip of his glass and marvels for a moment at the fact that he got her to open up even just a bit. It was a swooping feeling of victory that a competitive creature like him lived for, but it felt a bit different, for some reason. ]
So why the taste for specifically-sexed mammals?
no subject
[Another sip of wine, accompanied by a very pointed look.]
But from a biological standpoint, a siren's call works just as fine on either sex. I just got the taste for it after all those years of all-male crews.
[She's not sure why she's bothering to give him the small biology lesson on sirens, but it's making his face do this stupid, what she has to assume to is a "pleased" look, so it's...amusing, at very least.]
I take it your long-dead relatives were not as keen on their own advice. Define "precious."
no subject
If it originally came from the ground and sparkles with some effort, it will make a nice addition to the pile. [ With an eye roll. Even he recognizes it sounds silly, especially to someone like Cadence, but- There was a reason he liked her. Yes, that. Masochism. ]
Families are hard when everyone is jealous of each other's collections and steal from each other - and pretty much everyone, for that matter. It's not easy to amass shit like that without getting called a thief. We don't exactly die easily, but a well-placed bullet or a beheading will do the trick. Let alone the damage we can do to each other.
small>[ He eats another piece of calamari and smirks. ] You have a family?
no subject
[She takes mental notes of his quick examples of his extended families' ends, should she ever need a new handbag.]
So you're basically built to run yourselves into extinction, charming. Explains why I've yet to run into another dragon in a financial capital. You're the first, though it does beg the question how you've managed to survive natural selection this long...
[Whatever banter he was getting from her before shutters at the mention of family; she takes another sip of wine, draining the glass.]
No, no family. Sirens are made, not born. Another biology lesson for you.
no subject
[ There's an awkward beat where he sucks the last of the liquid from around his ice. ]
You know, science was never my favorite subject in school, so I'm going to topic jump here. First dragon, hm? So what else have you met?
no subject
All kind of fae, goblins since they're so keen on the banking sector, a troll or two, a few centaurs...New York is a big city.
[She slides up from her seat, smoothing out her dress.]
I need to step away to the restroom for a second. Order me... [She scans the menu for just a second before settling on her choice] the tenderloin if the waiter comes while I'm gone - rare.
no subject
[ For a moment he looks at the shoes as though she might take those and flee, but- She doesn't. He relaxes. ]
---
[ The relaxation doesn't last all that long. ]
No, no I don't think she's coming back. Thank you.
[ He hisses, after the waitress tries for the third time to tell him that his date has gone ghost to gently get a more profitable table going. Dropping two bills on the table, he goes to leave after an extra glass of scotch to wash down the three bites of steak he managed.
Clyteus caught a cab and set off back to his apartment cradling the same expensive fucking useless shoes he came with. ]